Open-Mouthed and Sickly-Sweet
by My Dear Juliet
Summary: It happens every winter. No matter how much he despises it and regardless of any preventative measures he takes, Logan can't seem to shake this curse of winter-long chapped lips. James notices, but his help quickly turns into much more than Logan can handle. And fuck, Logan is finding it really really hard to keep it to himself. [oneshot, JAGAN, strong sexual content, language]


It happens every winter. No matter how much he despises it and regardless of any preventative measures he takes, Logan can't seem to shake this curse of winter-long chapped lips. It's a bit of an eyesore, of course it is, but more important than that, it just plain hurts. And no one wants to walk around sporting pale, brittle lips that split almost every time they have the audacity to smile. It's just not that fun.

And Logan doesn't get it. It's been happening to him his whole life, and yet he seems to be the only one out of his little quartet who suffers from it. Sometimes Kendall gets a little scraggily, but a quick dose of chapstick will leave him moisturized and renewed in no time. Logan doesn't even think Carlos has the ability to get chapped lips, to be perfectly honest…like he has some sort of bubble surrounding him to protect him from the winter climate.

And what bothers Logan is the absolute most, is that it's L.A. It doesn't even get cold in the wintertime!

It's all so very unfortunate.

Poor Logan. Poor Logan, indeed.

* * *

It doesn't take long for those relatively colder months to roll around again, and it takes even less time for the unfortunate boy to notice that telltale peel beginning as he draws his lower lip in and runs his tongue along it.

Goddamn.

"All it really takes is some chapstick, dude."

That's Kendall's response one morning as Logan finds the blonde glancing over his shoulder at his laptop. '_Fast and Easy Chapped Lip Remedies!'_ reads the title of the page he was scrolling down.

"That works for _you_, Kendall," Logan notes, deciding to exit out of the tab, "And the rest of the world."

"Hm…" the blonde seems to consider this, which Logan would have found helpful if they hadn't already had this conversation more times than he could count, "You're just special then."

"I'm aware."

And before Logan can really do much of anything, Kendall is reaching around and pinching his cheek, scrunching his face up like an overbearing grandmother, "You special boy!"

"Ahh—God, Kendall," he sputters, nearly kicking the laptop onto the floor as his legs come up to his chest and he pushes the intruding hand away from his face, "Knock it off!"

But the irritated smile is there and maybe it's ok.

"Just don't hurt anyone with those things," his friend grins in a sort of teasing way that allows them to both understand that he's not being an ass just to be an ass.

Logan rubs his reddened cheek, "Yeah…will do," he mutters before opting to pluck himself off the couch and journey out of the room.

That seems like enough close contact with people for now.

Except that doesn't exactly happen, because just as Logan turns to reach the door of his room, it flies open and James is propelling himself forward in that domineering way he seems to like, his eyes only making contact with the boy in front of him when they sort of smash into each other, his hands immediately finding a place on Logan's arms just below the shoulder.

"Wh—oops, sorry man—" the taller boy flounders for a moment before his eyes really sort of sink in, like he's thinking about something.

And Logan doesn't even need to squint in the darkened hall to know that those hazel eyes sort of trail down until they reach his lips.

Well, that doesn't make him self-conscious or anything.

"Uh-…" he tries to pull something out of nothing, realizing that he's bringing his bottom lip in again and sucking on it nervously, "'kay-…yeah. Homework."

James immediately removes his hands and does this smile that's just sort of…off, "Yep. Yeah."

And then they're shuffling around each other and going their opposite ways, leaving Logan to wonder what in the hell just happened.

He doesn't really think about it much after that. Because really, if he got super close to someone with irritatingly chapped lips, he would probably need to fight the instinct to glance down too.

Except it's hard to let it go when every time he sees James now, it's like he's doing it—staring down at his mouth with that look of contemplation until something else captures his attention, and then it's gone.

Logan doesn't very much care for it, to be honest. And not because he's insecure or trying to cover it up (which he is…). It's because it makes this little sort of crawly feeling happen in his stomach, a feeling that's new to him.

It's indescribable, really. And he'd like it to stop, please.

* * *

"It says _'carefully roll the dough up onto the pin'_." There's a moment of silence as the words are taken in, and then Carlos lets out an annoyed huff, "What does that even _mean_?"

Logan saunters over to the kitchen counter, taking in the display of cooking utensils and spilled flour in front of his friend, "I'm actually not that sure," he admits, taking a glance at the printed out baking instructions, "Maybe covering the rolling pin so it's like a corndog?"

Despite the fleeting look of affection for the mentioned food, Carlos still seems uneasy, "But that doesn't make sense! It's a chocolate tart!"

Somewhere over by the couch, James mutters something indecipherable.

Logan can't help but laugh, the scene just a little too ridiculous to pass up, "I don't know then, bud. Sorry."

"Dang it, Martha Stewart!" the shafted Latino hollers into the air above him, "You've wronged me _again_!"

There's a moment where the cooking instructions are hurled into the air in reckless abandon, and Logan knows that these tarts aren't going to be finished anytime soon.

As he leans his back against the counter behind them, he starts to feel those eyes on him again. Without fail. He doesn't want to give in, just wants to ignore it, but that itchy feeling of knowing you're being watched nags at him and he glances across the room, receiving that pensive gaze from those irritatingly contemplative hazel eyes yet again.

Logan sighs through his nose, getting ready to tell James exactly what's on his mind and how irritating it is and really is it that necessary to stare at someone's lips, regardless of their appearance?

Except just as he's about to unleash his wrath, something changes. There's this little shift in the air and suddenly James' eyes are narrowing, his tongue darting out to moisten his own bottom lip.

And…why does that crawly feeling have to come back in the pit of Logan's gut? It's uncomfortable and jarring and it just really doesn't even need to be there.

A piercing clatter of metal on tile disrupts the strange silence as Carlos no doubt goes into another Martha Stewart bashing. But the clash of the pan on the floor doesn't jerk the other two's attention away. Instead, James's eyes simply flicker up and join Logan's in a composed and surprisingly elegant fashion.

And there's no sign of surprise, or being caught, or really anything that leads to that awkward instant where no one knows what to do. So Logan decides to let it go on for one more moment before he lifts himself from the counter, trailing over to the mess Carlos has made as his friend begrudgingly mumbles into the refrigerator: "Where are the fish sticks…?"

* * *

The bathroom mirror can be an unforgiving thing. Indeed, this has been true throughout time. And as Logan stands there, examining the progression of his chapped-ness (he's decided that will be the term), he wonders how people still manage to have an ounce of self confidence after a few minutes in front of their reflection.

But then of course, there're people like James, not a hair out of place and seeming to glow every time their reflection hits a surface. Oh how they must pity the common folk who must _try_ to be stunning.

Logan leans in a little bit, making note of every split and every peeling area, and debating simply walking around with his mouth submerged in a glass of water for the rest of the season. That image brings a pitiful grin to his face, resulting in the reopening of one of the splits in his lip.

As he licks the metallic sheen of blood away, James saunters by the door, taking the time to glance in and then be on his way again.

The first time Logan sees James put chapstick on, he wonders why he's never noticed it before. The silver tube of lip balm that James so elegantly slides across his lips is like nothing he's ever seen before. But it sure seems to do its job, because James hasn't had a case of unsightly chapped lips since they were kids.

James pops the cap back onto the tube and slips it securely into the front pocket of his jeans, and all Logan knows is, he's got to have some of that stuff.

* * *

That silver tube must contain some sort of magic, Logan decides, because James' lips have to be the smoothest damn things he's ever seen.

Perhaps that's his secret.

The next time it's brought out into the open, Logan sneaks another peek. But there's no delicate puff of smoke as the lid is taken off, there's no pixie dust. It's just normal.

And James' eyes are on him again.

* * *

They have a meeting with their clothing designers for an upcoming appearance. And they're so cordial and it's all so very "oh we're good, thanks," and "it's going great" and "yes, we're very excited."

Carlos will put on anything and everything that is given to him. Kendall requests to have some sort of hat, please. And James is too busy insisting that Logan looks better in this shirt over the other to care.

"It's a tank top."

"Exactly."

Logan does his best not to get angry as he inspects the article of clothing in the full-body mirror in front of him, "I don't like tank tops."

And James won't have it. "It doesn't matter if you like it or not."

"Um, I think it matters a whole _lot_ if I like it or not," the shorter boy counters, feeling the need to point out that everyone else received clothes that can be found somewhere in the stream of their main clothing style.

"I don't see why you're making a big deal out of this."

"Because, I don't wear tank tops!"

"You should start—"

"James—"

"—because you're lookin' pretty hot in this one now."

"—when have I _ever_ worn—…" It takes Logan's flustered brain a couple seconds to catch up, and when it does, it refuses for any more words to possibly come out of his mouth.

The room gets a little quieter, or maybe that's just his imagination, but it feels like there's suddenly a whole lot of attention on him as he glances through the mirror at the taller boy standing over his shoulder. He's got this little smirk, but it's not suggestive or ill-mannered. It's more of a knowing smirk that has a strange way of working under Logan's skin until that crawly feeling is back.

"Just try," James insists.

And Logan supposes it would be much easier to just accept it and move on. But that doesn't mean he doesn't mumble something under his breath as he stalks away from the mirror, clingy fabric already reaching up to his pounding chest.

* * *

So James said he looked hot.

Who cares?

Moving on.

* * *

Logan stands at the mirror on the wall of his room in defeat. Six. Six different types of chapstick he has tried. And all of them end up finding their way into the trash bin after little to no success. He sighs, dejected and ready to just give up. Because really, how long can one person focus so hard on trying to perfect one thing? This has now reached the level of 'lost cause'.

Somewhere behind him, James is folding laundry and storing them neatly into his gigantic dresser. And Logan silently seethes at him through the mirror. Goddamn his perfect lips. Goddamn how velvety and no doubt incredible they must feel.

And he can't stand it anymore—partially because he's just pissed, and partially because he shouldn't care this much but he really really does. So he marches over to where James is packing away a pile of shirts, and when the taller boy turns to no doubt reach for more from his bed, Logan is right there, right up in his space. It's enough to startle James to the point of stepping back into the dresser.

Logan reaches up, ignoring how he flinches a little bit at the surprisingly close contact, and does something he's sure he would never do if not for his blind frustration. He reaches up and ever so gently brushes the pad of his thumb across James's bottom lip.

James stares down at him, eyes widened a bit and eyebrows definitely raised in surprise. His mouth parts a little bit as he takes a breath in. And all Logan can do is notice how sickly smooth the boy's lips are. It's impressive. But at the same time, it infuriates him.

A fan of warm breath graces over Logan's fingers and he decides that that's enough. He retreats back, gives his roommate some space, and shakes his head in aggravation as he walks past the mirror, making a broad sweep of his hand that causes the remaining useless lip balms to clatter into the trash can.

* * *

He just doesn't care anymore.

He accepts the pain and realizes that all of his efforts are futile.

This is the way things will stay. And it will happen again next year.

* * *

It's nighttime. Everyone is in bed except for Logan, because he had too much coffee today and his brain is still up and ready to go. So instead he sits in the living room, the stark light from the television illuminating his face as Batman goes toe to toe with Bane.

There's movement behind him but he doesn't care, he just takes another sip of his water and stretches his arms out on the back of the couch. Batman is just about to deliver a crushing blow when a figure blocks the television. Logan doesn't even have to really look to know that it's James.

He's got his basketball shorts on, the ones that Logan always thought were super soft. They brush against his legs as James leans over and straddles him on the couch so fluidly that Logan can't find time to react in any way.

James stares at him silently. And Logan doesn't know what to do so he stares right back. The pressure of the body in his lap holds him firmly down.

James takes something small in his hand and pops the cap off. Right away Logan knows what it is.

"Relax," the boy above him says, and Logan realizes that he _is _actually relatively relaxed given the circumstances. His arms stretched across the back of the couch feel heavy as he continues to stare up at him.

It's only then that his heartbeat starts to pick up, when James reaches out and tenderly lifts Logan's chin with his hand, causing the boy below him to crane his neck to the touch. The tiniest smile that Logan has ever seen sparks across James's face as he brings the silver tube up to him, gently gliding the balm over Logan's bottom lip once, twice, three times before he draws his hands away.

Logan swallows roughly, his tongue absentmindedly darting out to run across his newly treated lips.

"Don't lick," James orders, a curt click of the lid being snapped back on sounding out through the dark.

Logan obeys, his body suddenly unable to move even if he wanted to. "Thanks," he speaks lowly.

That impossibly small smile flashes again and James nods before getting up and disappearing into the dark once again.

* * *

It's a miracle.

Logan has never had his lips feel this good.

They're soft and perfect and just super super awesome.

Kendall notices it right away, having been the person that Logan loved to complain to. It takes Carlos a little longer, but it doesn't really matter. And James, James just smiles at him because he knows.

Logan feels pretty undefeatable.

* * *

A week goes by and every once in a while James will corner Logan somewhere in order to give him the latest dosage of chapstick. It's like a drug hand-off or something. Like no one else can know about it.

It takes a couple times for it to actually sink in for Logan that he's using the same chapstick as James. Like, they're sharing a chapstick. Is that weird? Maybe. They're friends though and he's sure girls share lipstick and stuff with their friends all the time.

He doesn't bring it up to James, but wonders if he thinks about that too, or if it's just him.

He bets it's just him. So he doesn't say anything.

* * *

They have an early morning interview and have to be out of the apartment soon. James is naturally already ready to go, just straightening his thin black tie in the mirror before it gets covered up by the jacket he's wearing anyway.

Logan is a little less ready. In fact, he's combining brushing his teeth with running a hand through his hair in attempt to get the perfect style. To his surprise, it works. That's a first. He rushes out of the bathroom they share with his shoes in hand.

"Ready?" James asks, looking up from the mirror.

Logan slips one shoe on, waiting to tie the laces in the car, "Mostly."

James smiles, "Good," he says, walking up to the slightly frazzled boy and in one fluid motion grabs him by the back of the neck and pulls him into the softest kiss Logan has ever felt in his life.

Logan's heart drops, his shoe falling to the floor with a thud. Everything is silent except for his pulse shattering his ear drums.

James presses his lips against his a little firmer and Logan sighs shakily out his nose.

"Perfect," James breathes before kissing him once more and then pulling away.

Logan stares at him, his face no doubt sporting an amusing combination of shock and bewilderment.

James smiles, "Let's go," and then steps out their door.

* * *

What? _What?_

Logan is having considerable trouble processing what had happened as they join the others in the car and head out to the interview.

And James seems totally unaffected. He's just all smiles and cheery like he normally is before interviews. How can this not be weighing on him a single bit?

Logan breathes deeply, trying very hard to get his heartbeat steady.

It's no better during the interview. All his mind can focus on is that kiss and what it could possibly mean-or how he even felt about it, for that matter. It was an impeccable kiss, he'll give him that. Very smooth and effortless. And there Logan was dropping his shoes everywhere and being nothing but dumbstruck by the whole thing.

But damn, did it feel good.

He glances over at James, who is knee-deep in answering a question about their upcoming tour.

Damn, did it feel good.

* * *

Logan doesn't know if he is supposed to talk to him about it or just leave it alone. He doesn't want to be _that guy_ who makes a gigantic thing out of something stupid…even though he tends to be that guy more often than not.

So he stays quiet.

That is, until the next time James approaches him for another hand-off of the chapstick. He tries really hard to say something about it without sounding stupid. He really does.

But he doesn't.

* * *

The party they're at is only a few apartments away. They were all invited and pretty much everyone they knew is there. And Logan is having a blast. The music is loud and the shots keep coming.

He dances with plenty of people, even gets a pretty impressive lap dance from one of the girls he was chatting up (he's still not sure how it had gotten to that). Yes, he's feeling pretty goddamn good. And he knows exactly who he wants to see next.

He finds James in the middle of some sort of drinking game but doesn't care. He grabs his arm and pulls him away, much to the disappointment of the other party goers.

James chuckles, his feet almost getting tangled up in themselves as Logan pulls him across the room, "I was winning."

But Logan doesn't really hear him. Instead he's heading for that little nook by the closet that they can hide away in. When they get there, Logan pushes James up against the wall, his hands grabbing dangerously at his shirt.

"Damn, Logan," he almost growls, "What the—"

"Do you want to kiss me?"

James seems only a little taken aback, his eyes scanning down to Logan's mouth, "Wha—"

Logan glares up at him, spelling it out very simply: "Do you want to kiss me?"

It only takes a moment for James to seem to get his bearings before he breathes out with a solid nod. "Yeah," he murmurs and then Logan is kissing him with all his might.

Hands fumble around to find purchase on hips and cheeks and Logan feels like he's dying from both excitement and release.

Their lips are so pillowy-soft as they move against each other. James is the first to effortlessly slide his tongue against Logan's and Logan thinks that this just might be his undoing.

"God, you—" he half-tries before swallowing into another kiss.

James grins into it, his hand coming up to run through Logan's hair, "Can't," he mutters, "—tell anyone."

Logan slowly comes to a stop, glancing up at the boy who is so out of breath and messy hair and pupils blown wide. Of course they can't tell anyone. But…why did that just turn him off so much?

James straightens his shirt out, "What?"

But Logan shakes his head, his heartbeat drumming through his ears. He doesn't know. Maybe it's just the alcohol messing with him. He decides he can't deal with this right now. He shouldn't have to. What is he even doing? "I need another drink," he says, and then leaves James in the corner.

* * *

He ultimately feels really bad about it when he wakes up the next morning. What a dick thing to do to somebody.

Even though he doesn't remember everything about what had occurred, he knows that it was intense and passionate and now more than ever he wants more.

James doesn't seem any different. Just like before the interview, it seems nothing had effected him too much last night. And Logan guesses he's pretty happy about that—less drama for everyone.

He really gets his answer two days later when everyone has gone to sleep and James crawls on top of Logan in bed. He plants light, airy kisses on his bottom lip and eventually one thing leads to another and they make out for the better half of an hour.

* * *

Logan is addicted. Plain and simple.

* * *

James tells Logan that he's an extraordinary kisser one time, and his ego just skyrockets. Because this is James we're talking about. The guy who has the most perfect lips ever. The guy who can kiss his way out of any situation.

Logan tells him that it's because he's kissing him, that's why. And James answers by sucking lightly on his bottom lip. Logan is down for the count after that.

In fact, Logan is down for anything after that.

But nothing else ever comes. It's just one steamy make-out session after another. Logan's not complaining by any means. On the contrary, making out with James has become one of his favorite pastimes. But with every encounter he finds himself closer and closer to the edge of his want.

God, would he let James do absolutely anything and everything to him. Sometimes it almost hurts how bad he wants it. But those sturdy hands never venture any lower than necessary. And fuck, Logan is finding it really really hard to keep it to himself.

* * *

James is wearing this stupidly tight shirt that clings to him in every tantalizing place it can. And he's got his glasses on—something Logan has found turns him on in a way he can't describe. It's just sexy.

He eyes James from across the room. He's untouchable now. People are everywhere. But God, when he gets his hands on him…

The moment comes when the interview is wrapped up and they all return to their respective dressing rooms to change and eventually go home.

James knows that Logan is waiting for him when he steps into his room. He unclips the ear piece from his shirt and tosses it on the couch before walking up to Logan, who is sitting and waiting eagerly on the vanity counter.

"You know what those glasses do to me," Logan smirks, his legs dangling off the counter.

James steps between them, his arms fitting snugly around him. "Mhm," he sighs before pressing his lips against Logan's, both of them exhaling at the same time, their pent up impatience fizzling out in release.

Logan reaches up with both hands and pulls James's head closer in, deepening the already faultless kiss. Goddamn did he love this.

James runs his hands down the sides of Logan's legs, and it's enough to drive Logan's sensations wild with want.

"James," he speaks between heavy breaths. He can't do it anymore. He can't hold anything else in. "James," he says, "I wanna do more than just kiss you."

James's hands still. His lips slow to a more reasonable speed, and everything seems to just slow way way down. He clears his throat. "Uh…"

As much as it pains him to do it, Logan pulls back and looks at James. Surely he didn't hear right. "'Uh'?"

James swallows before diving back into one of those spine-tingling kisses that he knows he loves. "I like kissing you."

Logan reciprocates, his lips moving but his heart faltering. "Me too," he kisses, "but—"

James swirls his tongue around Logan's, feeling the moan that comes forth from it. He does it again.

And Logan is pretty sure he's not getting through to him. And much more of this will definitely bring him right up to the edge of no return.

"James," he whines, "I need-…"

James kisses him one more time and then breaks away, moving from the counter and running a hand through his hair.

Logan's eyes open in uncertainty, his chest heaving and arousal sending spikes throughout his body. James is just standing there, hand in his hair and eyes on the floor like he's trying to find the answer to something.

Logan breathes out in impatience, "What?" He doesn't mean to snap, but he does anyway.

James hears it. "Nothing, just…" He moves over to slowly start to pack things into his bag. "Why do you have to make this into something bigger than it its?"

That hits Logan. Hard. That was definitely not the reaction he was expecting. "I'm not," his tone is purposeful this time.

But James won't look at him.

"_You're_ the one who started this whole thing. Remember that?" Logan cracks, the energy that's running through his veins working against him.

James swiftly zips his bag, "I was just helping you."

"By making out with me?" Logan is incredulous. Nothing that James can say will convince him that this was all just a favor and he hadn't enjoyed it too. "You can't do this to me without expecting me to start wanting something else."

James finally looks at him. He's not angry. In fact, Logan can't really tell _what_ he is. But what he says next throws him for another loop. "Just…let's just keep it the way it is."

Logan takes a long breath, doing his best not to sound as desperate as he feels. "I don't know if I can."

That gets to James. He can see it. And suddenly, Logan can't stop his mouth from moving.

"Is it me?"

"No-"

"Am I doing something wrong—"

"_No_, Logan."

"Then why don't you feel the same way? How can you _not_ want even just a little more?"

"I never said I didn't." James is starting to get angry now. "It's not the same."

"_What's_ not the same?"

"Kissing and fucking is not the same!" James yells, throwing the balled up towel in his hand onto the ground in aggravation. "Kissing is just kissing, but once you cross the line it's never ever the same again!"

That settles in the air. He can hear James's breath coming fast and heavy. He stares down into his lap, waiting for a right time to speak. But it doesn't come, so he says it, "So you're just scared, then."

James stares at him for a moment, his eyes blazing. Then he grabs his bag from the ground, throws it over his shoulder, and slams the door on his way out.

Logan just sits there, his mind spilling over.

If this is the way things have to be…nothing else… He's not so sure he can.

* * *

They don't do much kissing for a couple weeks. There's the occasional peck, and once Logan even gives into those velvety-soft lips before making some sort of shit excuse about needing to leave. But James sees right through it.

Another week goes by without anything happening whatsoever. They don't approach each other or make any comments, but James doesn't stop from getting any more attractive.

He's just really hot. Logan comes to this conclusion while watching him just be him. He's sexy and tall and Logan knows what his lips can do now and it's painstaking to be around. Hell, once in a while he'll get himself all riled up and turned on just by letting his imagination get to work. It's ridiculous. But Logan can't help it.

* * *

They're at dinner with everyone and James is watching him like a hawk from across the table. Logan can feel his eyes raking over him and he can't help but let it go straight down into his jeans. It's been so long.

Kendall is telling a story about this guy he used to go to school with but Carlos is the only one listening.

Logan takes a drink from his beer, his eyes locking on to James's over the bottle. And it's such a heavy hold that Logan has to have another drink.

That mouth. Those lips. Fuck.

A fleeting grin dances across James's face before it's gone and he's turning his attention to whatever Kendall is saying.

Logan clears his throat, trying to do the same, but all he can focus on is the incredible need that's sinking into his bones. God, he would just clear the table and fuck James over it if he could.

The image of James underneath him and the addition of another bout of eye contact is enough for Logan to excuse himself from the table. He needs to calm down before things get out of hand.

No one is in the bathroom once he reaches it, and he's glad about it. He splashes the icy tap water against his face, willing himself to disengage. Relax. Just…do anything but think about James.

The beads of water slide gracefully down his face as he hangs his head down towards the sink. It feels good, but it's not getting him to where he needs to be quickly enough. He exhales slowly, and just as he reaches the last puff of air, the door opens behind him. Logan looks up into the mirror quickly, and James is starting right back at him.

"Fuck you," Logan lets out as he turns and pushes toward the taller man, an upsetting determination flaring inside of him. James is moving just as quickly, and they meet in a clash of teeth and tongue that has Logan reeling forward and getting James right up against the door.

He pushes desperately against him, demanding more contact, and James answers with a sultry growl that makes its way straight into Logan's pants.

Logan moans deep, he can't help it. It really has been too long since they've touched and he'll be damned if he can't admit to himself that it's almost all he thinks about.

James grabs his shoulders and pushes him forward until his back hits the tiled wall with a thud. It hurts and Logan loves it. He loves the hands and the heavy breathing and everything about James being so incredibly close to him. Except the arousal in his pants is growing more and more difficult to ignore.

"James—"

He is cut off by another deadly accurate kiss that makes his knees start to buckle. And goddamnit his pants feel so fucking tight right now and all he wants is—

"James—"

But James can't seem to control himself either, moving with blind passion. Logan can't keep the whine from escaping his lips. He's close. He's _already _getting so embarrassingly close and—

"JamesIcan't," he nearly whimpers, "FuckJamesI—"

The air in the bathroom is thick and heavy and Logan knows he's either going to collapse or come in the next minute and James isn't going to do a single fucking thing about it. And he's close close close—

Logan breaks away from him, down to his last breath and before he ruins his jeans and ruins James and his ridiculous notion that all they can do is kiss and the air feels so much better over by the sink so he stands there with his eyes closed, hands griping the edges of the sink and chest heaving.

He's shaking. He knows it. And he can't even bring himself to look at James, who is still and silent somewhere behind him. All he wants is to finish. To find release and to most of all have James take him there and have his way.

But it's not going to happen. So he just stands there, shaking against the sink until the door opens again and Carlos is sauntering in.

"Oh," he smiles, "I thought you guys were at the bar."

Logan just waits for James to answer him because there's no way he's in the mood for conversation right now. But apparently he had slipped out the door when Carlos had come in.

When asked why he looks like shit, Logan finds the words to tell Carlos that he didn't feel well. Probably something he ate.

When he rejoins the table, there is zero eye-contact between James and him. And Logan doesn't particularly fucking care.

* * *

After that night, Logan tries to avoid all close contact with James. It's not that he's mad—ok, maybe he's a little bitter—but most of all it's because he doesn't trust himself. Despite embarrassing himself with his over-the-top eagerness to get off at the restaurant, Logan has never been as attracted to James as he is now.

The more he feels and touches and tastes him, the longer he wants to be with him—the farther he wants to push him. It's like the more he's prevented from getting off, the more he wants to. And goddamn does James turn him on in the stupidest of ways sometimes.

But he does his best to not get too close. Because the last thing he wants, despite how he may act, is to scare James away.

* * *

There's one night where James leans over and kisses him goodnight and Logan doesn't even get that turned on, so he's pretty damn proud of himself.

* * *

Despite his better judgment, Logan agrees to go to the club with James to "pick up some ladies". It's a late-night affair—something they just decide to do on a whim—but once they're there, the deep pound of bass hits Logan's chest and he's happy he agreed.

James buys him a drink and Logan in turn promises to get the next two. There are plenty of eligible women there, eyeing them over as they set off on their hunt. Logan feels a rush of fire shoot through his veins as he shoots back some sort of Jaeger.

James makes a motion for them to join into the crowd of dancing and no doubt inebriated clubbers.

The first girl Logan ends up dancing with is wearing this impossibly short skirt that's riding up higher and higher as she grinds into him. And to be honest, it kind of creeps him out a little, the promise of germs very existent. He excuses himself with a friendly smile and disappears into the mass of people.

The second girl he connects with is drunker than he is, and it's very apparent in the way she swings side to side with little direction. He asks if she's ok, finds her friend for her (because that's just the kind of guy he is), and then disappears into the mass of people once again.

On his way back to the bar his gaze collides with James, who is very much into the beat and far more fluid and effortless than any of the other people in here. Logan can't drag his eyes away from the way his hips roll against the body he's flush against. It's domineering but it's teasing at the same time. Logan swallows down the lump in his throat. Maybe they can just dance together. That's harmless enough, right? No. But he's been so good lately. Fuck it.

He weaves through the sea of bodies until he's in front of James, watching intently. When James notices him, he steps away from the girl he's dancing with, who pecks him on the cheek and vanishes, leaving a tiny spike of jealousy to ignite through Logan's body. But it's nowhere near the amount of desire that's flooding his veins.

The beat thuds against his chest as he leans against James, telling himself that it's ok because they're just going to dance.

James's hands on his hips feel remarkable and he knows he shouldn't do it, but he reaches up and kisses James. Deep.

Ok. Well apparently his self control is nonexistent tonight.

But James isn't complaining. Logan can feel him smirking against his lips. It's not helping his self control one bit.

But damn does it feel good.

James grinds his hips into Logan's and holy shit the friction. Logan bites down on his lip, silently pleading for him to do it again.

He does. And Logan realizes that there is zero way to hide how ridiculously hard he's getting. But he doesn't even care anymore because _fuck_.

He slides his tongue against James's, his entire body feeling like it's on fire as James moves his hands down to grab Logan's ass.

"Fuck," Logan moans.

The moving lights above them flash fast and hard and every nerve in his body becomes astoundingly hyper-aware, his skin tingling with each liquid movement of James's body against his.

James catches Logan's bottom lip between his teeth, pulling with just the right amount of fervor to leave Logan breathless. This isn't the same, he tells himself. This isn't just stupid making out in the corner of the room. Logan feels this, this need, in his very core.

James grabs his shoulders and turns him without even breaking their trance, and if Logan had enough blood flowing to his brain right now he would note how unbelievably effortless he was making this.

But he isn't interested in that now, because he's grinding into James' lap and reveling in how James is leaving all these open-mouthed and sickly-hot kisses all over his neck from behind. The air is thick with his cologne and the warm breath burying into him and Logan reaches up to pull down at James' neck, tilting his own so their lips can meet again over his shoulder.

James drags Logan's ass up against his lap and hums deep from his throat. "I can't do it anymore," he dips his head down to meet Logan's ear. "Too much to hold back…"

Logan's chest pounds from the music and the heat and those words that aren't complying in his head. He swallows, heart beat up in his throat.

And then James leans in again, his lips brushing against Logan's ear and his breath warm and maddening and Logan can just hear him over the music but it's strong and pointed and raw: "I wanna fuck you."

It hits Logan with crippling accuracy, arousal detonating in his entire body. Goddamnit, did nothing sound better right now than to be thoroughly fucked by the man that's been driving him up the fucking wall.

"Really?" Logan is breathless, desperate. But he knows enough to recognize that this is the opposite of what James had wanted just a few weeks ago.

James smirks, his hands running temptingly down his sides until one slides past Logan's belt and waist band and everything and Logan is unconsciously bucking up into his warm hand. It's unforgiving and exact and it's got Logan's mouth dropping open, knees buckling a little, a desperate cry of a moan escaping him.

He thanks God for the melody blasting through the speakers drowning him out.

"Let me fuck you," James murmurs into his ear, giving Logan a nice long stroke that he's sure makes his point.

And Logan doesn't have to be reassured anymore. As much as he craves the touch—the contact that has finally_ finally_ come, he needs more. He needs all of it. And James is going to give it to him. He can hardly hold himself together.

James grabs his arm and starts pulling him through the crowd towards the back of the club. Whatever happens between that moment and when they stumble into a tiny room with carpeted floors and red walls, Logan wouldn't be able to tell anyone, because he's zeroed in on the prize and every other little thing that's happening is lost.

James slams the door behind them and locks it. The room is dark and lit with tiny red ceiling lights and Logan just assumes that this is here for people who want to shack up with their new lovers. That's all he really can process before James is headed straight for him, eyes blown with want. It takes no time at all for him to nearly rip Logan's shirt over his head and Logan just wants to see James—all of James.

He unbuckles the taller man's belt surprisingly quickly, given how much his hands are shaking. And when he pushes his pants down around his ankles and takes James in his mouth in one impressive move, James is letting out this moan that goes straight down to Logan's dick and it's the sexiest thing he's ever heard in his goddamn life.

James draws Logan up by the shoulders, colliding his lips with him in a remorseless way as he growls: "Pants off."

Logan obliges, freeing himself from the tight denim as James spits into his own hand. There's too much time without feeling. He needs his hands on him. "Fucking touch me," he snaps, ready and naked and running a hand through his no doubt disheveled hair.

James reels forward, taking hold of Logan and pushing him against the red wall behind him. Logan wraps his arms around his neck, bringing him closer and closer until his head hits back against the wall and James is bending down to pick him up, sliding his hands up Logan's thighs.

Logan takes a shaky breath, the best he can do when James has him pushed up against the wall at just the right height that he couldn't even reach the floor if he wanted to. He wraps his legs around James's back, who grabs roughly underneath Logan's thigh, holding him there tight against the wall. And all Logan can think is, fuck this is really happening.

And then it happens. James pushes deep deep _deep_ inside of him and holy shit Logan can't hold in the throaty yell that comes deep from his core and leaves him scraping red marks with his nails against James's back.

He can't contain a single noise, his head thrown back against the wall, and with every thrust that has him riding back down onto James he swears to God that this is so much better than he had ever imagined.

James is red, his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth hanging open in a euphoric manner that is only interrupted by the low, husky moans that Logan has learned to hang onto so dearly. "Fuck, Logan…" he breathes out and they're staring into each other's eyes, clouded and hungry for every last piece of each other.

That telltale heat tenses up in the pit of Logan's gut and he knows that he's just right there but goddamnit he is completely obsessed with how James fucks him.

"So-," he grits, "—fucking close."

James quickens his pace to a painstaking rhythm and Logan feels every cell in his body ignite and explode in a white-hot burst as he climaxes, a remarkable death-grip on James's arm as he loses it altogether.

"Oh fuck," James utters with what almost sounds like surprise, and he's burying himself deep inside Logan, riding out his orgasm with little restraint. "Fuck," he says breathlessly, and one of his legs give out, leaving him to stabilize himself on a knee.

Logan slides down the wall with him, his legs coming to wrap around him once more. He peers up at him, a stupidly satisfied grin slapped across his face.

James meets his gaze, his chest heaving. He's stunning. Too gorgeous for words and striking straight into his heart.

Logan leans up and captures his lips one more time, feeling how the man above him visibly relaxes to the touch. They sit like that for a few minutes, reveling in the release.

"I was a fucking idiot," James speaks lowly when they finally break for air, "I knew you were right from the start."

Logan grins, a satisfied hum leaving him. He doesn't want to be cocky, but of course he was right. "Looks like you couldn't keep it in your pants either."

James's laugh is hoarse, and he rests his forehead against Logan's, taking in a deep breath and exhaling through his nose. "You can't blame me."

The raucous sounds of the bustling club start to seep through the door again, and James stands to pull his pant back up. Logan watches him move from his spot on the floor, finding it impossible not to stare—to admire. He figures he should start getting dressed too, but his body won't allow him to move. Instead he just sits there, leaning against the wall as his mind brings him back to how he even got to this point. Thank God for his chapped lips.

His eyes follow James's muscles as he puts his shirt back on. Suddenly he has this stupid little naggy thing going on in his stomach. When he says it, it comes out as a joke, but if you looked hard enough, you could see the sincerity plastered all over his face: "So do I have to wait until winter to get with you again?"

As soon as he says it he hears how desperate it sounds, and he mentally kicks himself.

James glances over at him, now completely dressed, and just smiles before picking something up off the floor. Logan doesn't know what that means, and he wants to. He debates asking again, in a less clingy way, but then James tosses Logan's pants at him, the denim feeling heavy on his skin.

And James just smirks and says, "Get dressed."

* * *

It's a Saturday morning. Logan peers out the window, his breath cascading across the glass that's beginning to frost over. They have an interview today. He's going to need to bring an extra jacket.

He kicks the white lacy bra that's lying on the floor out of the way. She'll probably be back for that today anyway. They always do. Ever since he and James got their heads on straight and realized they couldn't do this it's been girl after girl for months. Logan tells himself that he doesn't care, that every girl is great and all, but in the end he's never really 100% satisfied.

He wrestles the jacket off the hanger and throws it on before going to the mirror to run a comb through his hair. Carlos is yelling something in the hallway, prompting him to pick up the pace, toss the comb down onto the counter with a clatter and give himself one last up-down. That's when he notices it-the ever so slight beginning of peeling skin. He runs his tongue across his bottom lip and a small spike of exhilaration sparks through his body. Kendall is yelling now, and he decides that he'll deal with this later, so he quickly shuts the bathroom light off.

When his feet get him back into the room, his heart sinks a little, like when it had all started. Because James is standing there, leaned up against the door frame with a knowing look in his eyes, a smirk dancing across his perfect _perfect _lips, and that silver tube of chapstick perched dangerously in his hand.

Logan swallows roughly, arousal setting in with no time at all.

James steps toward him with exciting determination.

And the door slams shut.

And there's the telltale snap of the cap being popped off.

THE END


End file.
